


The Forest

by flying_siphonophore



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Absent Parents, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - No Omnic Crisis, Angst, Bad Parenting, Bisexual Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison, Daddy Issues, Daddy Kink, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Fluff, Gabe is in his 40's, Hurt/Comfort, Jack kinda sucks, Mutual Pining, Older Man/Younger Woman, Other, Power Dynamics, Reader is 26 years old at the start of this fic, Romance, Sexual Tension, Smut, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2020-05-18 19:50:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19341430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flying_siphonophore/pseuds/flying_siphonophore
Summary: What good would come from pining after his best friend's daughter?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Whew this fic is gonna be heavy. I've got a couple of chapters written up, but I'll probably still keep updates to once a week/once ever other week. Also I suck at summaries and titling things, but hopefully the title will make sense by the end of the fic??? UH
> 
> I also haven't posted anything in a long time, and I do most of my writing at night and without a beta, so I apologize for any mistakes or awkwardness. Also, I've just always found starting a story to be the weirdest part.
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy it, and I hope that I don't lose my motivation lol

Gabriel hasn't felt so excited to have company in a long time, but then again he'd been alone in this city for a few years now and had made little effort to make friends or romantic connections.

When Jack called him and asked if he knew of anywhere there were nice houses for sale near him, all Gabriel had to do was glance out his kitchen window at the For Sale sign across the street.

Jack and his not so new girlfriend Angela had already moved in. They'd been over a number of times to drink and reminisce over old times in Overwatch.

It was one of those nights when Jack had asked, “You haven't met my daughter yet, have you?”

They had been stationed across the globe from each other when Jack found out about his daughter. She was legally an adult by then, and her mother had kept her father's identity a secret. As soon as the young woman had contacted Jack, Jack had called Gabe in a panicked daze, outside of their usual once a month catch up calls. Gabriel clearly remembers Jack's tense voice over the phone, telling him he doesn't even remember the woman he'd supposedly impregnated, she had never contacted him about child support or his own daughter. He hadn't even believed the girl at first, unwilling to even do a paternity test because he thought it was a scam.

Gabe remembers laughing when Jack called him one night muttering that the strange girl was back, this time in the Overwatch headquarters, who refused to leave until she met him.

“Sounds about as pig-headed as you,” Gabe said. Jack had only groaned.

Back in the present, Gabriel shook his head. “I haven't. Where's she at anyhow?”

“Well, she's actually going to be moving in with us for a little bit.” Jack and Angie share a smile. “She's starting her masters at the university downtown, and doesn't have enough for a place yet.”

Gabe nods into his beer. “Let me know if you guys need help moving her in.”

He'd end up out of town on assignment when she moved in, and now it was the weekend after his return, and he would be joining them soon for dinner.

Angela greets him at the door with a smile and his usual drink. He’d helped them move in most of their stuff, so he’s aware of the layout of their house. His eyes do catch a few extra boxes stacked down the hall that are likely Jack’s daughter’s.

“She’s running a little late, but she’s on her way,” Jack said, sitting at the head of the dining room table with a beer in hand, looking relaxed. Gabe joins him, complimenting Angela on the heavenly smells coming from the kitchen.

“I made some tamales,” she said, smile in her accented voice as it floats from the kitchen. “Or I at least tried! I hope they’re up to your standards!”

Gabriel grins. “I’m sure they will be.”

The food had just been placed out when the door opens and closes, the sounds of keys jingling and a bag dropping audible. Gabriel doesn’t know why he suddenly feels nervous. Maybe because Jack and Angela are important to him? Jack’s kid, who he’s never met in his life, is important to him? He wants her to like him?

“Sorry I’m late!” You round the corner, raking your hand through your hair and sounding breathless. Gabe blinks and freezes, staring at you as you hug Angela, who assures you that you’re just on time. “Things ran late at the lab, and apparently because I’m new I’m expected to stay later to figure shit out that wasn't my fault to begin with.” Your cheery tone is obviously sarcastic.

Jack laughs and stands to give you a hug. “Sounds like shit.” You laugh, too, your eyes meeting Gabe’s over his friend’s shoulder, and he breathes a hard sigh out of his nose and stands.

Jack gestures to him. “I’ve told you about Commander Gabriel Reyes. Gabe, this...is my daughter.” Your hand is small and soft in his, nails painted a dark red. You smile up at him and introduce yourself, suddenly shy and bashful.

You look nothing like Jack. He isn’t surprised the guy didn’t believe you when you claimed to be his kid. What makes Gabe slightly uncomfortable is the fact that you’re stunning, even when frazzled from rushing, wearing drab office attire and obviously tired. There were personal touches to it, though, like the thin chain choker around your neck that made Gabe feel a little too warm, the jeweled and delicate rings on your fingers, and the number of piercings you had in your ears.

You sit across from him, and every time your eyes meet your tongue is wetting your smiling lips. You’ve got them laughing in no time as you talk about the mishap at the lab, and Gabe wishes his whiskey would actually work for the first time in a long time.

“So, Commander Reyes, what do you do? Still in Overwatch?”

Gabe grimaces. “Call me Gabriel. Or Gabe. Anything but Commander.” You and Angela laugh at the slight desperation in his voice, and Jack snorts, eyes rolling. “And I still work for Overwatch, yeah. Just a different part than your dad.” He doesn’t go into details, and you thankfully don’t try to pry. His work is confidential and always would be, very much like Jack's.

You hum lightly, sipping your own glass of whiskey that Jack had poured for you. Unlike them, your cheeks have now flushed from the alcohol intake, and Gabe can't help but notice that its spread to what he can see of your chest. He’d had to turn his gaze away when he caught himself watching you unbutton the top two buttons of your work blouse.

His eyes quickly dart back down to his plate. He feels off kilter. He'd expected to have a paternalistic reaction to you. Jack's daughter were words that just didn't seem to connect in his brain whenever he looks at you. None of those paternal, parental feelings are cropping up at all.

Instead, other more insidious thoughts and feelings are cropping up like flies in the deeper parts of his gut and brain, swarming him and making him jittery.

You make some joke about him not being able to talk about his work like Jack, and he tried to smile genuinely at you. But all he can see is the flutter of your long lashes as your eyes meet his after looking him over, and the way your lip pinches between your teeth and the sweet curl of them.

Guilt and lust sear his insides the entire night. Everytime he looks at you one of those feelings follows the other, creating a seemingly endless loop of distracting and confounding emotions. Where he had once been excited at the prospect of Jack and Angela living across the street, he now finds himself exhausted and restless.

 

\--

 

Your phone is bright in the darkness of the eerily quiet neighborhood. It’s a nice place, just so far away from the city life you had grown used to during undergrad. After slurring a thanks to your Uber driver, you stumble up the steps to Jack’s front door, shooting off a text to your new work friends that you had made it home alright.

You’re not sure how coherent it is. You can’t read all that well after your time drinking downtown.

Struggling with your keys, you lean up against the door and stab at the lock. Your key refuses to go in all the way, and you frown. “What the fuck?” You hiss, squinting down at your keys to make sure you have the right one. You cycle through them, giggling when you almost try your car fob on it, but you only grow more agitated when the door still won’t open.

“What the fuck!” You’re louder this time, and you jiggle the door handle aggressively before it’s torn from your grasp, the door yanked inward. You gasp, staring up with wide eyes at Gabriel Reyes, who stands in the darkness of the entryway with half his body hidden by the door and quite a scary look on his face.

It immediately smoothes over into incredulous confusion. He says your name. “Why the hell are you trying to get into my house?”

Embarrassment immediately eats up your face in a blush, and you laugh and hug your things to your chest. “O-Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” You glance over your shoulder, across the street to what could also be Jack’s house. But the one next door to that could be Jack’s house, too? A tsk leaves your lips, and you lean heavily against Gabriel’s door pane. “I thought...I must’ve gotten Jack’s new address wrong. All these fuckin’ houses look the same.” You groan, turning to give Gabriel an apologetic, if drunk, look. “If I scared you or woke you up, m-my bad, dude."

His face has flattened into an exasperated look, and he heaves an incredibly big sigh. He shuffles around behind the door, head briefly disappearing and something clattering along a surface inside the darkness of his home. “You drunk?” He asks suddenly, stepping out onto his porch with you before closing the door.

You fingergun him, stepping back to give him room. “Is it that obvious?" You grin at him. He just snorts, lips hitching upwards at the corners. God, why the hell was he so hot? He’s Jack’s age, right? You think he’s actually older than Jack. How is that fair or possible?

You watch him light up a cigarette, his dark eyes almost black in the night. “Have fun?”

“Oh yeah,” you say, your slightly exaggerated drunken enthusiasm getting the handsome laugh you wanted. “My feet fucking hurt, I can’t read, and I probably spent way too much on alcohol. So ready for that regret tomorrow.” You give him a thumbs up.

Gabe hums around his cigarette, the cherry end of it lighting up. The corners of his eyes crinkle at you in amusement. “Definitely don’t miss that part of drinking.”

You peer at him. You’re vaguely aware of the kind of experiments your father and his friend had been through while in the military, though Jack was never keen on sharing details. You didn’t think it was appropriate to ask Gabe much about it. Maybe that’s why he looks so young?

“So…” you trail off, eyes floating upwards to the dark porch light above you. “...Can you like, still get drunk, you just don’t get the hangover? Or…?”

“Can’t really get drunk anymore, either,” he sighs, the smoke of his cigarette coming out of his nostrils. You doubt the cigarette does anything for him either; just an old habit that’s stayed since the experimentation. But he looks gorgeous, smoke curling into the air around him, posted up and unconcerned, his thick arms crossed over his broad chest.

You give him a slightly pitying look, and Gabe laughs at you again. You don’t mind it at all. He has a beautiful smile. You’d love to see more of it. You take a deep breath, ignoring the stench of cigarettes as you trail your eyes over him. His hair is a mess, the dark longer locks on the top of his head curling down over his forehead as opposed to when he had been over for dinner the other night with his hair swept back and moussed. His white t-shirt is exceptionally bright in the darkness, hugging his torso and shoulders tightly. His sweatpants hug him from hips to ankles, and you blink blearly at the slight curve of what you think is his dick, and holy shit...

“Goddamn,” you mutter, quickly reaching up to rub your suddenly dry eyes. You sway when you shut your eyes.

“Whoa. Need a hand getting--” He doesn’t even finish his question before you’re losing balance and tripping backwards off the edge of his porch, arms pinwheeling. His eyes go comically wide as your world spins, his loud curse accompanying your shriek. The air is knocked from your lungs with a heavy oof when your back impacts right into his flower bed. Mulch immediately finds its way up your legs and into your skirt, sticking against your thighs and in your hair, scratchy through the thin fabric of your tiny dress. The poor plants you've squashed are digging into your spine, as much of a protest they can give.

There's a beat of silence where the two of you simply stare at each other with wide, surprised eyes. You break first and start cackling way too loudly for almost 3am in a suburban neighborhood, tears coming to your eyes and escaping down your cheeks. You can barely open them while you laugh, especially seeing Gabe with one leg off his porch and a wide grin on his lips. His cigarette also seemed to have disappeared.

He leans into the arm he’d put on his house for balance, hiding his face as his shoulders bounce. His laughter grows, not nearly as loud as yours, but the moment is irreplaceable and hilarious.

“Are you okay?” He asks, deep voice quivering with his attempt at restraining his laughter. You get out a strained uh-huh that only makes him snicker.

“I’m so sorry,” you gasp, weak arms attempting to push your heavy body upright. You groan, gratefully grabbing onto Gabriel’s offered hand. He tugs you up without issue, and you stumble into him. He doesn’t seem to mind, still chuckling as he guides you over the small stone wall separating the flowers from the grass with a firm and steady hand.

His hands swipe across your back and sides while you unabashedly reach under your skirt to pick larger pieces of mulch from the crease of your thighs. Gabe snorts, shaking his head, still grinning.

“In case you were wondering, I’m totally fine getting home,” you say with light sarcasm, grinning up at Gabe. He rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, sure. C’mon, sweetheart. Let’s get you home before someone calls the cops.” Your heart thuds against your chest at his pet name while his arm curls around your waist. His hand is big and warm on your side, and his thumb could brush up to the side of your breast if he wanted to. You really want him to.

You press yourself into his side. Liquid courage in your veins makes you mouthy. “You’re so handsy and we haven’t even gone on a date yet, Gabe.”

He stiffens briefly, and you stumble over the curb onto the street. You can see him better under the warm streetlight. “After trying to break into my house and falling into my goddamn flowers, I don’t trust you enough to walk yourself fifty feet to your own home. Don't think too hard about it.”

You laugh, not quite catching the stern edge of his voice, or how he closes himself off by turning his torso away from yours, his touch becoming a little more impersonal.

You sigh as you and Gabe step up onto Jack’s porch. “Thank you, and sorry about your flowers. I can buy...plant? You some replacements or...something?” You don’t know anything about gardening, and you tell him as much.

Gabe huffs a laugh, gazing down at you with a quirked brow. You look up at him from under heavy lids, and can’t help but lean into his chest, your hand pressing against his firm pectorals. They flex under your touch. “Thanks again.”

His hand drops suddenly from your side where it had remained after guiding you across the street. “No problem.” His voice is low, floating in the small space between you like a distant kind of thunder. You can feel the way it rumbles through his chest and against your hand, and you suck in a shaky breath. Smoke and a masculine, woody smell washes over you, and you sigh in delight.

“Goodnight, Gabriel.” Your voice is breathy and you curl your lips into a smile. Fuck, you want to kiss him. You belated think that you’re definitely too drunk.

Gabe takes a sudden and deep breath, putting his hand on your wrist and lightly pushing you away from him. You gulp, backward movements clumsy as you’re leaned carefully against your father’s front door. When he lets go of you, your whole wrist and hand feels quite cold, and you curl it close to your chest.

“Goodnight.” It’s quiet and sullen, you almost don’t hear him. You watch him cross the street and disappear back into the shadowy confines of his home.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter feels really mmmblegh to me, but set up is important even if it's a little boring.
> 
> Enjoy!

Gabe doesn't see you for about three days after your drunken encounter. Thank god. He’d almost thought you weren’t _that_ wasted the other night. You mistaking his house for Jack’s wasn’t so farfetched, but you falling off his front stoop should have been the initial indicator to your level of inebriation. It was only after he’d gotten you into his arms and you started blatantly flirting with him did he realize his mistake, and that you had been flirting with him the whole time, and that he had flirted _back_. By then he couldn’t exactly throw you off of him.

The thought of you has him cracking open a beer. Sure, it won’t do him any good, but he can damn well try to make it work. He chugs all of it standing in front of his fridge, crushing the can in his fist and tossing it to the recycling. The second one he drinks slower, with the intention of savoring it.

Gabe nearly snorts beer up his nose, unwillingly recalling you peering up from his flowerbed in absolute shock. Your messy hair had fallen around you, over the petals and leaves of the small shrubbery beneath you, and your flouncy, _short_ dress had fallen so far up your legs that Gabe distinctly remembers the smooth expanse of the curve of your asscheeks where they had settled into his garden, pressed wide by your weight upon them. You were too pretty when you laughed. A confusing mixture of mirth, arousal, and shame flooded the soldier, and he took another deep sip of beer while yanking the rest of the six-ring out of his fridge and slamming it shut.

He dreadfully wonders if those feelings will regularly be coupled together for the rest of your stay with Jack.

He’s walking back to his living room to resume watching the Sunday morning football game when his doorbell rings. He pauses, eyes on the ESPN announcers as they quietly recap what’s happened so far in the second quarter. Gabriel turns, glancing towards the entryway of his house with a blatant frown. He catches the sight of his gun still sitting on the small table beside his door, where he’d left it after he’d realized you weren’t some clumsy home intruder or someone from his past assignments making a bad assassination attempt. Where he’d forgotten it after he’d stormed back into his house in a slightly panicky, angry, aroused mess.

A couple knocks in an annoying beat pass over the door, and he shuffles closer, grimacing when he recognizes the young, feminine blurred form on the other side of the frosted glass.

“Fuck,” he sighs under his breath. The can in his grip crumples slightly in his hand.

You ring the doorbell once more, and Gabe continues to stand the darkness of his home, quiet cheers coming from the TV behind him.

With jerky movements that belie his lack of desire to respond, Gabe stalks forward with a snarl just as your body is fading back into the sunlight, out from under the shady protection of his awning.

He rips the door open, frowning out at you, eyes squinting as they adjust to the sun. You turn, looking surprised for only a moment before you’re grinning sheepishly at him. He glances down at your hands, where you hold a plate of what looks like lemon bars, and he feels his empty stomach grumble in delight.

“H-Hey, Gabe?” Your questioning tone has his brow furrowing, attention back on your face. You’ve stepped back into the shade of his house, eyes lighting up with mischief. You jerk your head to the side. “Something happen to your flowers? They’re looking pretty...wilted.”

Gabriel hadn’t come to look at the damage you had done to them, but turning his head downward he can see a distinct person-shaped indent among them, and he’s brought back to that night all over again, a light huff of amusement escaping him. He finds he can’t help but roll his eyes and smile at you, though it feels lacking somehow.

You’re grinning cheekily, stepping up his front steps and closer to him. You’re not wearing that damn dress from the other night, but that doesn’t make you any less alluring. Your hair is up in a messy bun, earrings glinting in the sun. Your tank top is small and hugs your curves lovingly, tucked into the shorts that do the same to your hips and waist. The rest of your skin is showing, and it’s almost too much for Gabriel to stand. Your neck is bare, too, unlike the other night when you had been wearing some kind of velvety choker that had gone well with the dark color of your dress. He’d thought a little too long and hard about that choker in the three days that have passed, imagining it as the only thing you wear, wrapping his finger in the give at the back and pulling it tight across your throat. How you’d sound trying to speak around it being just too tight.

He'd come more than once already to that little fantasy.

Gabe takes another heavy sip of beer, looking away from you and across the street.

You laugh nervously, now standing before him and looking down at your gift. “Uh, so. I actually wanted to apologize for that. I would have come sooner but my hangover was killer.” As you speak his eyes glide down to the curve of your shoulders and your bare decolletage. You’ve got a smattering of cute freckles across your skin that he wants to trace with his lips. His eyes fall further down, and he acts like he’s rearranging his hold on his remaining beers when he’s actually looking at your legs. Fuck, you've got a light pattern of freckles there, too. He catches sight of a few red scratches that are in the process of fading, all along your thighs and up the skin disappearing into the bottom of your jean shorts, and his lips curl.

He grunts at the sight of your bare feet, your toenails painted some dark royal blue.

His eyes pop back up to your face when you lift the plate between the two of you. You grin, hip bouncing out when you lean a little heavier into one leg. “You like lemon squares?”

You’re in his house before he realizes he’s even opened the door wider for you. As it swings shut behind you, and your eyes are turned towards the TV in the other room, Gabe suddenly remembers his gun resting behind him. He picks it up, quickly making sure the safety is on before shoving it into the drawer of the small table. It rattles loudly with his aggression, drawing your attention back to him.

He takes a deep breath, jerking his head towards his kitchen and trying to ignore the way your eyes dip downwards towards his bare chest. In spite of himself, a pleased pride fills his gut at your appreciation of him and his physique, even though he _definitely shouldn’t be feeling that way_.

“Nice place,” you say as you trail after him. “Nice _pool_ ,” you mutter, likely catching a glimpse of it beyond the large floor to ceiling windows at the back of his kitchen. He grunts again, tossing his empty beer can in the recycling and tugging his third of the day off the rings hooked around his fingers. It fizzes as he pops it open, and his eyes rise to yours as he takes a sip. You’re standing on the other side of his countertop, setting the lemon squares down and taking the saran wrap off. You bundle it up in your hands and squeeze it down into your fist.

“You feeling alright?” You ask, raising a brow, eyes jumping from the three beers he has left to the one in his hand, and finally to him. “It’s like...not even noon.”

“Doesn't do anything for me anyways.” He reminds you. He thinks that's the first thing he's said to you since you've been here. Your nose wrinkles at him, and it's enough to make him sheepishly put the can down.

“ _Anyway_ ,” you stress, looking down at your gift, brows rising, and he can’t quite read your expression. Gabe’s face twitches, fingers spinning his sweating beer restlessly on the counter top.“Yeah, sorry about your flowers. Let me know if I can do anything about them.”

Gabe waves your words off. He honestly just wants you the fuck out of his house. He's having trouble focusing on you without imagining what it'd be like to fuck you on his counter top. What it would be like to have you strolling around his house barefoot and bare every other way, too.

He desperately resumes drinking.

“Don't worry about it. I remember partying like that.” He shrugs a shoulder, ignoring how your eyes flick over his arm, trying and failing to focus on any other point in his kitchen than you. “Shit happens.”

A slow smile creeps over your face, and you lean forward onto crossed arms. It emphasizes your cleavage, and he can just see a little bit of tantalizing lace at the soft top curve of them. He’s bombarded by the thought of biting at them, what you would sound like while he leaves bruises, tugging the lace down over your tits with his teeth.

He gulps and braces himself against the counter top, blinking back up at your face.

“From what I remember,” you say, tossing a hand out. “It was pretty funny.”

He can't help the grin he gives back. “You were _wasted_.”

You laugh, a pretty flush across your cheeks as you look away, covering your face. “Oh God…”

Gabe bites back his smile and reaches forward to drag the plate in front of you towards him. He picks up one of the bars, taking a generous bite. It’s fucking good, though tainted slightly by the taste of beer. He hums and nods when you lift your head to peer at him. He smirks, using a finger to wipe at a crumb he feels on the corner of his mouth. “For now, this is fine. They’re flowers, they’ll grow back. Your embarrassment and baking skills feel like good enough payback to me.”

You laugh, and Gabe quickly looks down. Fuck, he was flirting. He was flirting with his best friend's daughter. _Again._ Someone twenty years younger than him, who could be his own fucking kid.

“For now, huh?” Your tone holds a desiring kind of note that punches the air from Gabe's chest. He only grunts, shoving the rest of the lemon bar in his mouth, picking up another just to keep his head down.

He blinks when you drag the plate back, picking one for yourself. “Hey, I thought these were my apology gift.”

You laugh into your bite, covering your mouth as you retreat from the counter.

“I still made them,” you rebuke from behind your hand, inching towards the exit of his kitchen. He doesn't follow you, only watches you back up slowly. If he moved around the counter towards you, he's afraid his halfhard dick will be too apparent to hide in his sweats.

You point at him with a powdery finger. “Mm, Jack wanted me to remind you about dinner this weekend.”

Gabe is both dreading and excited to be in Jack's home with you. “Didn't forget.”

“Cool.” You smile and pop your finger in your mouth, slowly sucking it clean. “See you then.”

Gabe weakly tries to remind himself that Jack would shoot him if he knew the kinds of thoughts he had been having about his daughter.

“Bring the plate with you when you come over,” you call over your shoulder, scratched up ass swaying as you meander towards his front door. “Bye!” And you're gone, leaving Gabe with a hard dick and tangy sweetness in his mouth.

He’s up the stairs and in his bedroom quickly after your gone, stripping and grasping his cock while he sits in his chair in the corner, covering his face with a groan. You're immediately at the forefront of his brain, and it’s your hands quickly stroking his dick, you kneeling on his carpet, grinning so sweetly and preparing to suck him off like you did your own finger. He imagines what it would be like to massage his hands over your freckled shoulders as you swallow him down, your bare toes curling into his carpet behind you as his fingers tug at your hair and your breasts hang against his thighs.

When you asked him if you could do anything to make up for his flowerbed, he's absolutely positive you didn't mean any of the things he desperately wants from you.

He's coming loudly, hot and wet over his own clenching fingers as his abdomen flexes and his hips churn. It’s hard, embarrassingly fast, and tastes like lemons and sugar, and he’s more than a little mortified with himself that the prospect of Jack's anger doesn't scare him nearly as much as it should.

 

\--

 

You make sure to get home early enough from work to shower and put on some makeup before dinner. You even turned down an invite to a bar by one of your cute coworkers.

“Got someone else in mind?” Lena, one of the other researchers in your lab and an absolute riot, asks with a grin as you wave goodbye to the handsome Baptiste. 

You jokingly say, “Yeah, my hot older neighbor,” and it makes you both cackle even though it’s absolutely one hundred percent the truth.

You can hear Gabriel Reyes’ voice floating down the hall right now.

You take a shaky breath, looking yourself up and down in your full length mirror. You've been making an effort to wear the strappiest, but also the most unassumingly sexy clothes possibly around him. It feels like a wasted effort sometimes, but you swear you've caught him eyeing you up more than once.

You want him to do more than that.

For dinner tonight with your father, his girlfriend, and Gabriel fucking Reyes, you've donned another set of tiny, high waisted shorts. They make your ass and waist look great, not to mention your thighs don't get so squeezed to death in them compared to other shorts. Skimping out on a bra, you're wearing one of your more comfortable v-neck band t-shirts from high school, knotted in the front and tucked under to show off just a little bit of your midriff and a lot of your unbound cleavage if you were to bend forward or stretch back. You'd let your hair down to release some heat it had gathered from being in a bun all day, but you curl it back up into a messier up-do, and your thin chain choker is ever resting around your throat.

Curling your toes into the carpet, you tug your fingers through the looser strands of hair in a last ditch effort to make yourself look less like a hot mess. You just about kicked your door open before you could second guess your entire ensemble.

Gabe's sitting on a couch in the living room, thick arm stretched out along the back, muscular legs splayed casually, other hand holding a beer on his goddamn tree trunk of a thigh. Jack is sitting adjacent to him in his armchair, laughing about something as you pass behind him towards the kitchen. Your eyes meet Gabe's dark chocolate gaze from behind Jack, and you give him what you hope is a dazzling grin.

He takes a long pull of beer, but you see the way his lips tug into a brief, polite smile beforehand. You're a little disappointed, but you keep moving into the kitchen, missing the way his eyes sweep down your body when you've turned away completely.

“Need any help?” You ask Angela, kitchen tile cool under your feet compared to the warm wood of the rest of the house.

She smiles at you. Jack got lucky, hitching himself to a stunning and kind woman like her. Not to mention her brains. The two of you talked often about current medical breakthroughs, given the fact that she's a doctor and your research is medicinally adjacent. She was easy to talk to and a relief from Jack when you needed it. You honestly don’t know how she puts up with him so much.

She shakes her head. “Oh not at all. Go sit with the boys, dinner is almost done.” Her German accent floats delightfully through the air, and you smile, grabbing a drink for yourself before moving back into the living room.

Jack sees you now and smiles. “Finally out of that cave of yours.”

You roll your eyes, perching yourself on Gabriel's other side. His arm almost reaches behind you, but he moves it, bending to let his hand drape closer to his chest. He shifts his hips further from you, despite having a whole couch between you, and your heart rushes in your chest as you share a glance with him. You arch a brow at him, ignoring the itchy prickle of heat along the back of your neck.

He empties his beer bottle completely.

“I’ll get you another,” Jack offers, taking the empty bottle and strolling into the kitchen.

You twist towards your father’s guest, propping an elbow up on the back of the couch and leaning your head against your hand. “Did you finish those lemon bars?”

“Almost,” he grunts. He’s sitting stiffly, his head half turned away from you. The hand closest to you, the one hanging off the couch, is clenched into a loose fist. “A lot of sugar for one man.”

You grin, sipping your own drink. You curl your legs up onto the couch between you and imagine what it would be like to feel his hand smoothing its way up your thigh, curling into the meat of your quad. “I’ve got a bit of a sweet tooth. If you need any help with all that sugar, let me know.”

He shoots you a look from the corner of his eye. “...I think I'll be fine.”

You shrug a shoulder, a little more skin than you wanted showing as the collar slipped down along your arm. You're quick to correct it, glancing shyly at Gabriel as you do, and you nearly choke when you watch his eyes follow the movement before quickly looking away.

Jack sighs heavily as he returns from the kitchen, handing off an icy beer bottle to his friend. Gabe clears his throat and accepts with a quiet thanks, and you would have watched him tilt his head back to take a long pull if you hadn’t noticed the frown on Angela’s face as she sets out food in the adjacent dining room.

You rise and go to her, raising an eyebrow at the young woman when she looks up at you. “You okay?” You ask, setting your drink down and taking the large serving dish warmed by mashed potatoes from her hands, setting it on the table for her.

She sighs, rubbing her hands into her thighs. “I--Yes, don’t worry about me.” She smiles, one that doesn’t quite meet her eyes, but you let it go, silently following her into the kitchen to help place the rest of dinner. When Gabe and Jack come join, it’s unsurprisingly tense and quiet between Angela and Jack. Since moving in, you’d been privy to a few of their seemingly random disagreements that could lead to large arguments and sullen, angry silences, though you tended to stay hidden away in your room when they happened.

The men chat about their work, and you sit silently with Angela, who disappears from the table soon after clearing her small plate.

When you glance towards Jack, he doesn’t even seem perturbed. Gabe, on the other hand, shares a glance with you and has a deep frown on his face, one he directs at Jack.

Jack, true to fashion, glances at Gabe’s drink and points at it. “Want another beer?”

The other man shakes his head. Instead of rising to get another for himself, Jack drains his bottle and suddenly asks the room, "What would you guys think about hosting a couple block parties?"

You slow your chewing, raising an eyebrow at the blonde man. "For what?"

From beside you, Gabe grunts, “A couple?”

Jack gives you a confused glance. “What do you mean _for what_? To have a good time!” He points at Gabe, who also looks skeptical. “You were just telling me the other day how you wanted to see more of our old war buddies.”

Gabe hums. “I don’t think a block party--or more than one--was what I had in mind.” You snort at the obvious distaste in his tone. He gives you a brief glance filled with humor. “Besides, doesn’t a block party mean inviting neighbors, too?”

Jack shrugs. “Yeah! What about it?”

“Most of them have little kids.”

“So what? Either the kids will stay home or play in your pool--”

Gabe immediately holds up his hand. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. I didn’t offer my own fucking house for your block party, Jack.”

“I thought it would be fun if we could use both of our homes! And people could just walk between them freely. Doesn’t that sound awesome?” You sip your drink and concede silently that it’s honestly not a bad idea. Gabe doesn’t look happy about it, though, and you’re definitely not involving yourself in this, so you stay quiet.

Watching them interact is interesting in its own right. If you hadn’t been around so much or known their history, you would think they didn’t actually get along all that well. You figure what they say about war buddies is true; it really does make a special kind of bond, especially if it means someone can so easily put up with Jack and his moods.

Though Gabe’s frown doesn’t ever leave his face, you can see the way he starts to waver. His eyes start rolling and he starts slumping into his seat as Jack raves on and on about how good a block party--or _three?_ \--could be. It’s quite the sight to watch Jack absolutely eviscerate Gabriel’s resolve so quickly.

Gabe gives you another glance, one that gives away all of his exhaustion already with this topic and with Jack. You send him a teasing grin, and he snorts, lips hitching into a handsome smirk that leaves you feeling flushed.

“Okay, fine, whatever!” He hollers over Jack’s ramblings, who snaps his mouth shut _finally_ , and with an irritatingly proud grin at that. “Just...let me know at least a week beforehand so I can prepare myself emotionally.”

It’s your turn to laugh quietly at Gabriel, almost turning away to hide your grin.

If you had turned away entirely, you would have missed the glorious sight of Gabe rolling his eyes at Jack’s sarcastic, “That’s the spirit.”

You guess you can see why they’re friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Post-edit: there's a few fuck ups, but hey I did finish this at 4 in the morning when I couldn't sleep through some chronic pain and I don't use a beta, so please excuse any weird grammar or mistakes in future chapters!
> 
> Also, please leave comments! I love that shit!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay on this chapter. A lot of shit hit the fan with my family the week that I was supposed to post this, and in the time since then other life stuff just got in the way. After all that, it took a while to get back into the creative, inspiring mindset, but I've been venting through other artistic projects and finally felt like finishing this chapter! I hope it's satisfying!
> 
> With that being said, apologies if it feels a little all over the place, or if it sucks in any other way. I did just sit down and bang out the end of the chapter in 30 minutes at 2am when I should have been working on a project that's due tomorrow, and I'm sort of cobbling scenes together that I initially wrote a long time ago and trying to fit them in comfortably to the rest of the story. Lol we'll see how well that goes as the story progresses.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy! And sorry again for the delay!

This morning before you drove to work, Jack gleefully informs you that the first block party will happen the first weekend of May.

At least he stuck to Gabe’s week-long warning.

Why do you already feel exhausted? You do think it would be interesting to meet Jack’s old war buddies, and you’ve wondered if that would help you understand him a little better, but the closer the date becomes the less you actually want anything to do with the party.

You sit in a quiet conference room, staring blearily at data on your computer as Lena and Baptiste chat about their weekend plans.

“What about you?” It takes a second for you to realize that Lena said your name.

“Uh...what?” When her words catch up to your brain, you frown and say. “Oh, uh. There’s a block party happening at...my dad’s place.” Calling Jack your dad out loud still felt strange, and you didn't think that would ever change. The thought brings an old, mild bitterness to your tongue, but you suck it back down and release it from your gut with a heavy, tired sigh.

"Block party?" Lena sounds excited, perking up while Baptiste smiles curiously.

You only hum, keeping your eyes on your laptop. "Yeah. Jack...my father is having a bunch of old friends over or something."

You can see they know you aren't very excited about it. "If you need a getaway, we can assist. Or company, and we can crash the party!" Baptiste nods along with Lena's words, and that has you actually smiling and looking up.

"I might take you up on that." While they weren’t exceptionally close friends or anything--you’ve only been working at this lab for about a month or so now--they were more social than you, and you _want_ to be closer friends with them. That night you had tried to break into Gabriel’s house on accident had cemented the beginning of what you hoped would become a strong friendship between you and Lena, while you and Baptiste had flirted quite a bit that night. You blamed it on the alcohol, but you couldn’t deny that the attention had been exceptionally nice. You don’t know why you keep turning him down.

 _You know why_ , you tell yourself silently, glancing timidly at the man across from you. Baptiste was handsome and incredibly sweet, but every time you think back onto those blurry memories your mind supplants him with the thick, smirking, older figure of Gabriel on his front porch, and the way he had touched you and spoken to you, and _that’s_ what makes you squirm and makes your heart race.

You sigh, pushing your laptop away to bury your face in your arms. You lift your head only to set an alarm on your phone. “I’m gonna take a quick power nap,” you inform your friends.

Lena laughs, keeping her eyes on her computer. “Sweet dreams!”

Dreams of Gabriel Reyes always are.

 

\--

 

It's honestly a bit much. There's someone new trying to introduce themselves to you at every turn. Even when you escape from Jack's house to Gabe's, people seem to know immediately you're Jack's “long lost daughter” and they want to tell you all about how fantastic and accomplished Jack is.

Most of the older men with little to no tact ask about your mom, the only remaining “piece” to the rest of the Morrison puzzle. You appreciate the few who ask about _you_ , like Mei, Phareeha, and a weird Australian guy who _insists_ you call him Junkrat. He won't even tell you his birth name, and even showed you his Overwatch issued ID that _only_ says Junkrat on it. No last name, no other names. He smells like sulfur and has the attention span of a squirrel, but to be honest, he’s probably one of the nicest people you’ve met tonight that hasn’t tried to put on any sort of polite, plasticy facade, and it’s like a breath of fresh air.

It soon all becomes a little too much for you, and you escape up Gabe’s stairs, to a part of his house you haven’t been into before. You know you shouldn’t, but you find yourself in his room, shutting the door quietly behind you and breathing a sigh of relief at finally being _alone_.

It’s neat and militaristic, decorated in greys and dark blues, hints of gold here and there, and the whole room has a faint scent of him. You don’t sit around, though. You want to be as far away from everyone as possible.

His bathroom is a white marble with veins of grey, and it feels less taboo to be here for some reason. His shower is enormous, and there’s an ornate clawfoot tub next to it. It’s brightly lit by a skylight and another large window. You can clearly hear the people who are around his pool chatting and laughing. You don’t get any closer to it, and instead lift yourself up onto his countertop and lean back against the large mirror behind you.

Your eyes slip closed, and you wring the beer bottle between your hands. You’ve never been big on large crowds. Being in and out of the foster care made for hard times as a child, especially when you were forced to interact with a bunch of other kids with abandonment issues, or people who didn't understand your abandonment issues, and you’d never really grown out of it. It was one of the reasons you liked your lab job so much; you could do the same goddamn thing a hundred times over and barely interact with anyone all day. You were fine if you were choosing to interact with others of your own volition, but being approached constantly and expected to play polite quickly took a toll on you. Tactless questions about your dysfunctional family life were wildly inappropriate, but no one else seemed to think so.

Another sip of beer had your eyes blinking open, and you glanced between the two sinks you sat in the middle of. One was surrounded by what you presumed to be Gabe’s things, and the other was quite empty. A little sad, but you wondered if Gabriel had ever even intended for someone to use that side of the counter. He’d never spoken about being with anyone before, and he always waved off Jack and Angela when they asked if he had anyone he was interested in.

You allowed yourself a moment of indulgent fantasy, thinking of your own things crowding around the empty sink; your washes and moisturizers, your toothbrush.

Turning again, you looked over Gabe’s things. You didn’t want to snoop, but you eyed the bottle of cologne tucked away in the array of oral, hair and face products, and delicately slipped it from its position. Uncapping it, you brought it to your nose and took a deep inhale, humming softly.

That was definitely Gabriel Reyes.

The bedroom door opens, and you stiffen. Clumsily, you cap the cologne and slide it back into place. The glass bottle tinkles against the countertop, and you wince, quickly picking up your beer bottle again with both hands and relaxing back with what you hoped was an air of innocence.

The bathroom door swings open, and Gabriel is frowning at you, as usual. You blink back and swing your legs.

“What the fuck are you doing up here?” He doesn’t seem mad, but he’s definitely not happy.

You press your lips together. “Uh. Would you believe me if I said I was hiding?”

His face smooths out and he sighs. He glances behind him before slipping into the room, and you watch him close the door and lean against it, head tilted back and eyes back on you. “Yeah... But you took my hiding spot.”

You smile and laugh, swinging your legs again. Gabe smiles slightly back, looking towards the window that sits over his bathtub. “I’m a little surprised. You seem pretty extroverted.”

“Keyword there being seem, Commander,” you reply, watching him over your beer bottle as he pushes off the door, coming to lean against the counter beside you. “I’m not surprised you’re hiding.”

Gabe barks a laugh, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. You smile, and he runs a hand through his hair, tugging the curls along his forehead back. You’d noticed earlier, but you think he’s shaved for today. His beard looks cleaner, the usual faded shadow of hair higher on his cheeks is gone.

“Are you enjoying the party regardless?” You ask softly.

Gabriel shrugs. “It’s nice to see old friends. Haven’t done something like this in a long time. Jack’s return to the area seems to have gotten everyone hyped up, as usual.”

You snort softly. “I’ll say,” you mutter, finishing your beer and placing the empty bottle aside. Gabe’s head has turned to you, chocolate eyes watching you intensely. You wave him off. “Don’t worry about it.”

“People bothering you about Jack?” His voice has gone a little flat, though you know it’s not because of you.

You shrug. “How can they not want to know about his surprise daughter? He’s _the_ super soldier.” You flat words don’t seem to offend him. Jack Morrison was the face of the SEP project and Overwatch, afterall, and even though he isn’t seeing battle as much anymore that’s still very much the case.

Gabriel still frowns, eyes drifting towards the windows. Silence falls between you, and you cross your legs where you sit. From your view of Gabe beside you, you catch the downward twitch of his head, and warmth blossoms in your gut.

“Bring anyone?” He asks suddenly.

You laugh at his non sequitur, and Gabe glances back at you. His full lips pull into an amused twitch. You look him dead on. “No. I didn’t.” You suddenly roll your eyes. “Besides, I think Jack would have an aneurysm if I did. He keeps asking me about it, too.”

“He does that,” Gabe mutters, and you scoff.

“God, if you’ve noticed how much he asks me about my sex life instead of just how much he pesters you about yours, then it’s obviously become a problem.” You smile wryly at Gabriel’s chuckle, scratching a hand along your scalp.

You shake your head, miffed expression on your face. “I don’t know why Jack asks if he’s just going to throw a fit about it.”

“Cuz he’s your dad.” The excuse is weaker than Gabe probably thinks. You grimace, wrinkling your nose. A sudden and thoughtful expression dawns of Gabe’s face after watching the emotions flickering across yours. “Does that bother you?”

You blink at the sudden question. Licking your lips, you swallow and sigh. “Well...I mean, when I met Jack I was 18, right?” Gabe nods, turning his whole body to you now, his entire focus upon you. You tried to ignore how aroused you got with those serious, melted chocolate eyes on you. “By then...I’d never had a dad. Jack’s...my father, but it hasn’t been until recently that he’s been making an actual effort to be a father, and as far as I’m concerned he’s not...don’t that great of a job. It sounds harsh but, Jack is Jack and…” You trail off, fiddling with a slight hangnail on one of your fingers. You laugh, trying not to sound defensive. “I mean, I don’t even call him dad.”

“It makes sense.” You look at Gabe. He’s got a soft expression on his face, eyes on you and his own hands weaved together on his lap. “I grew up without a dad, too.” He shrugged a shoulder. “Mamá never remarried, and I didn’t ever have a stable male figure in my life until I joined the military. I get it.” Even though it was decades old, you could still feel the pain it caused him. There was a young Gabriel Reyes, and there always would be, who would have wanted a father’s guidance when he needed it, who had to work through problems on his own he felt he couldn’t approach his mother with.

You knew that because there was a little girl like that inside of you, too.

You reach out and rest your hand on top of his. It’s incredibly warm. He takes a deep breath, eyes never leaving your face. Touching him like this--intimately, quietly, and purposefully--is a rush like you’ve never felt before. It only grows stronger when his hand twists slowly under yours, long calloused fingers stroking along your palm before they curl around it, thumb hooking over the top of your hand. His other hand brushes over your wrist, the touch soft and gentle, and you brush your captured thumb over his fingers reverently.

“I’m sorry,” you say softly. His head tilts to the side, bemused. “That you had to grow up missing a parent. It sucks.”

Gabe smiles, and its lovely and heartbreaking. "Thank you, sweetheart, but it was a long time ago. And I don’t think I would want a father in my life who so willingly abandoned his kid and the woman who birthed him.” He jerks his head towards the window. “If Jack had known about you sooner, he would have been in your life as much as possible.”

Another painful stab in the gut. There were a confusing mixture of feelings regarding Jack’s lack of knowledge of your existence and how he reacted to you when you did show up in his life. All things Gabe had probably only heard from Jack.

You squeeze Gabriel’s hand and try to give him a smile. He squeezes back.

You find yourself sighing and leaning face first into his shoulder. He stiffens, but doesn’t move. He smells like his cologne, and sunscreen, a faint wisp of smoke clinging to his shirt.

His cheek brushes your head. “You alright?” His breath rolls along your ear.

You sigh and hum. “Mm-hm. Just recharging.” You shimmy closer to him, pressing your thigh up against his and sliding your head up closer to his neck. It’s a little awkward with the way your arms are pressed together, but you’re unwilling to let go of his hand.

Gabe seems to cherish the moment as much as you do. He slowly relaxes, pressing his nose into your hair and sighing deeply. You don’t know how long you sit there in the silence of the bathroom, the sounds of the party permeating through the windows but not the moment you’re sharing with Gabriel.

When Gabe shifts, it feels like you're coming out of a dream. You blink sleepily, grinning sheepishly at the older man when you lift your head.

“Sorry,” you breathe, rubbing at your dry eyes. His hand still holds yours, thumb running back and forth unerringly.

“Nothing to apologize for.” His voice is deep, soft, and you look up at him from under your lashes, your hand coming down to rest on your chest. You're a lot closer than you were before, and you trace Gabriel's handsome features with your eyes, ending on his lips. You catch him a moment too soon before he can hide his own glance downwards, and the electric meeting of your gazes seems to pull him out of whatever shared reverence you're experiencing.

He inhales and stands, hands shifting from yours and deep into the pockets of his jeans. You awkwardly weave your fingers together tightly to compensate for the loss of warmth and weight his hands provided. He turns his head away from you, exposing the strong column of his neck and the way his dark v-neck clings to him.

“Wanna head downstairs?” He asks, though you can tell it’s more of a suggestion. You nod dreamily and push off the counter, straightening the skirt of your dress. You glance up at him as you go to the door. He hasn't moved except to watch you.

“I'll follow soon.” He smiles at you, but it's tense and you feel a sudden guilt mixed in with your heavy desire for him.

You smile back. “Ok.”

Gabe keeps his distance for the rest of the evening, but your heart is left racing whenever you catch him staring.

He doesn't look away.

 

\--

 

You’re a curious young woman.

Just as the dinners with Jack, Angela and you become a regular occurrence, Jack starts really talking about these fucking block parties becoming regular as well. It sounds like a pain in the ass, but Gabe was promised that only his pool and yard were necessary now, and not any of his time, money, or private space. Clearly he and Jack have differing opinions on what entails, but Gabe supposes it's not as bad as he's making it out to be in his head. He desperately tells himself that when some kid from down the street shits in his pool, and every kid in the water starts to wail. Thankfully Jack offers to pay for half of the cost of draining and cleaning the pool, but Gabe knows its mostly only so the block parties can keep happening every weekend.

At these events, whether they were the private dinners or friendly block parties, Gabe starts noticing the strange behavior between you and Jack more and more. He hadn’t really noticed it before the conversation he shared with you in his bathroom. He had been too distracted trying to ignore you to see it at first.

It was easier to see the tension now.

Gabriel realized that there was a surprising amount of hostility between you and his friend. It mostly seemed to come from you, though he could tell that it was perhaps incited in some way by Jack. Then again, that last part had always kind of been _Jack_. The man thrived off of control, no matter how laid back he seemed, and Gabe got the feeling you did as well.

Gabe started observing instead of assuming. Jack liked to _act_ like a father; you’d said as much. He asks the kinds of questions he thinks a dad is supposed to ask their daughter. He asks you if you’re dating anyone a little too often, tries to give you advice about your job or education when you don’t ask for it, and you seem to abhor it whenever he brings up your mother.

It was like Jack was _trying_ to be the overbearing bossy father figure, and Gabe couldn't wrap his head around _why_. Perhaps he was trying to make up for his absence? Perhaps he thought that’s just how dads act? Does Jack think that’s what _you_ want from him as a father?

At parties, the interactions between you and Jack could go south quickly, where the two of you would separate and be pissed at each other the whole night. You would disappear, and after giving you a second to calm down, Gabriel could often find you in his bathroom. The times you weren't, he didn't try to actively search for you. If you returned from hiding away, he would simply ask if you were okay before giving you silent company until one or both of you were drawn in opposite directions. 

Jack would also do it at dinner, either ignoring or completely ignorant of the sour note his attitude brought to the atmosphere. Gabe can see you struggling to be civil, but you fail more often than not, resulting in you and Jack fighting before one of you is leaving the table entirely. Usually you. You always apologize to Gabe for it the next time you see him, even though he now knows it isn't your fault.

Jack usually just complains about your attitude.

Gabe thinks that's why he so easily agreed when you asked if you could hang out around his pool. It was torture for him, seeing you smear sunscreen across your body, lying barely clothed in the sun, glistening from your time in the water or the sweat that accumulates on your skin from the heat. He can see you clear as day from his living room, his kitchen, his goddamn bedroom. The balcony windows loom over the pool and if he isn't vigilant, he'll catch himself staring like a creep from the safety of the second floor.

But all the while he knows that if you're here with him, you aren't being tormented by Jack's insensitivity and hero complex. When you weren't working, you were in Gabriel's backyard, sunbathing, in the water, in the shade, more relaxed than he's ever seen you at Jack's. And he doesn't think Jack has made the connection as to why you're escaping his home for Gabe's at all.

He does his best to not talk to you when you’re over, but you seek him out and he can’t help himself when you do. It’s been a long time since he’s been around someone who's so eager to see him and accessible at the same time, and the fact that he’s attracted to you and can tell you’re attracted to him in turn certainly doesn’t make it any easier.

He’s in his kitchen, sitting at his counter, when movement from the large glass windows facing his backyard catches his attention. Glancing up from his laptop, Gabe watches your familiar figure wander from around the side of the house and towards the table near the firepit in the small covered courtyard.

Your things are discarded into a chair and he gulps as you quickly strip the thin, large t-shirt over your head. The bathing suit you have on beneath it is new, the criss-crossing straps down your back pressing into your skin. When you turn to root around in your bag, Gabe gets a glimpse of the deep v-cut down the front, and he mumbles a curse under his breath, quickly looking back at the encrypted work report before him.

He’s just debating moving to put his back to the window when the glass resonates with a knock. Gabe looks up, and his eyes meet yours. You bite your lip and timidly slide open the large glass door. “Is it okay if I get some water?”

You always ask, even though by now you know your way around his house. Gabe just nods, gesturing to one of the cabinets. You bring in a hot breeze and the sweet smell of sunscreen, and it makes him feel lazy; he would much rather be lounging in the sun and water like you--with you--than working on Jesse and Genji’s late Special Ops report.

“Have you enjoyed the block parties?” Gabe snorts at your question, trying not to glance up at you. From the corner of his eye he can see you lean your hip against the counter’s edge.

“Do you think I have?” He asks sarcastically, and when you laugh it pulls a smile to his face.

He catches himself looking at you as you’re shrugging and raking your loosened hair from your ponytail out of your face. “I dunno. You always say you aren’t, but you didn’t seem to be having a terrible time with your old friends last weekend.”

It’s true that last weekend was better than most. He’d been feeling pretty relaxed and caught up on work, and felt like he’d deserved a break like the block party. Reinhart had brought a poker set and they had played well into the evening. Through the haze of cigar smoke and the low lighting as his house slowly trickled of block party attendees, he’d been able to stare at you lounging on his couch with Angela and Phareeha, talking quietly and laughing as you drank whiskey and made yourself comfortable in his home.

When you’d risen on wobbly legs to get more, you’d brought the bottle for those around the table to enjoy, and your hand had stroked across Gabe’s shoulders as you’d poured him another glass, leaning your weight into his side and sharing a laugh and a lidded glance over your tipsy state.

He’s replayed those moments over and over again, intermingled with moments from holding your hand in the bathroom and all the looks he’d shared with you in the past month at Jack’s dinner table. A slightly lame fantasy he’s indulged in since it first manifested, but a pleasurable one nonetheless.

Gabe just shrugs again at your observation, watching you inch closer, leaning yourself against the opposite side of his countertop like you had all those weeks ago when you brought those lemon squares over. The positions were flipped, and similarly, things had changed in ways Gabe didn’t quite want to acknowledge. Your intimacy with him had shifted quickly and almost blindingly, and he’d found himself wrapped up in you faster than he could try and untangle himself.

It filled him with that ever familiar lustful guilt, and though he’s been feeling less guilty overall as time has passed, when he does feel it, it’s intense. It occasionally comes in a great and almost overwhelming wave, one that drenched him in anxiety and nervousness. That’s enough to tell him that he’s treading dangerous waters, that he needs to turn back before he falls too hard.

He catches your grin, playful and open despite your breasts pressing into the granite of his countertop. “Wanna come swim in the pool?”

Gabe keeps his eyes on his computer. “As nice as that sounds, I have work to finish.”

“Aw, c’mon. You always have work to do when I come over. Just come relax for once.” You’re moving around the far edge of the counter, and Gabe finds his eyes are drawn to the pebbling of your nipples under your thin bathing suit, the way it clings to the curve of your hips and rides high along the fat of your ass.

He swallows thickly, blinking his eyes up to your welcoming smile. Your elbow props itself up just behind his computer, and you relax yourself against the counter in such a way that your bare thigh brushes his.

Gabe holds eye contact as you raise a hand and tap your manicured finger against the top of his laptop screen. Your long lashes bat at him as you slowly push forward, the screen lowering and lowering until it silently snaps shut.

A gleeful grin stretches across your mouth, and Gabe can hardly be bothered by the fact that of all the times he’s used work as an excuse, the time that it’s true isn’t keeping him from rising to follow you with a sigh he pretends is one of exasperation.

You just scoff, slinging a hand back at him as he trails behind you. “Don’t sigh like that, you wouldn’t be using your damn pool without me here to drag you into it.”

He pauses just at the sliding glass door. “I need a bathing suit.”

You roll your eyes and step out into the sun. “If you insist, but you don’t have anything I haven’t seen before if you just want to wear your boxers.”

A sharp slice of jealousy and greed sears through him like a hot knife, and a youthful spontaneity comes over him, one that you only seem to pull from him. You screech when he snatches you up into his arms and tosses you, water glass and all, into his glimmering, expensive, and rarely used pool. He can’t help but laugh as you flail with a sharp smack into the water.

You come up gasping, but you’re smiling and laughing, and you throw the plastic cup at him full of water but with terrible aim. “Gabe! Go fuck yourself!”

“What are you so mad for? Aren’t you here to swim?” He asks, grinning and pulling his shirt over his head. He feels like a fucking kid with the way he’s reacting to your words, but even more so as he preens under your appreciative gaze. He watches you sink a little into the water as his hands finagle his belt open, his jeans drooping open by the weight of the buckle when the button and zipper come undone.

You’ve still got the gall to say, “What about your bathing suit, old man?”

Gabe shrugs a broad shoulder. “I don’t have anything you haven’t seen before, right?”

You laugh, a soft, almost disbelieving sound, and use your arms to propel yourself backwards as Gabe drops his pants, black boxer briefs hopefully doing a good job at hiding his arousal.

You slink closer through the water as he enters the cold and drapes himself upon the steps. You take your place beside him, and give him a smug look as you tip your head back to the sun.

“What?” He asks, his nerves starting to get the better of him. The cold water is sobering, reminding him that he’s a 40-something year old man, flirting with his best friend’s daughter, who has successfully seduced him into his own pool.

You just sigh and close your eyes. “Nothing. It’s just nice to see you relax. Thank you for spending time with me.” Before he can answer, you’re popping your eyes open and shifting to sit more towards him. “So. Got any crazy war stories you can share? I’d love to hear some.”

Gabe’s arm spreads along behind you, and you lean in close. He tries his best to subdue a smile, but it’s almost impossible after he says, “Only if you tell me some wild stories from your college days,” and you grin eagerly, biting your bottom lip and nodding.

“I’m gonna give you a heart attack,” you jokingly promise.

Yes, the cold water is sobering, but not quite enough. Not really.

Gabe grins back, heart racing. All while his thumb strokes back and forth along the back of your arm. “I think I can handle it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW I'M NOT GOOD AT SLOW BURNS, though I've always known that. I don't know why I try.
> 
> Then again, there's going to be a lot of emotional whiplash in this story. Hope you're ready for some chronic neck pain, cuz that's what this story's gonna give ya with how much it'll jerk ya around!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh dang, an update!
> 
> Sorry for how long this took. This is one of the first scenes I ever wrote for this story, and its kinda blegh to me. I think I've managed to pull it into something decent though. Not to mention that there were a lot of life-related roadblocks that sucked the inspiration out of me, but things are going pretty well now! So hopefully things can get a little more on track with my writing :)
> 
> Also, finally established that they're all in Switzerland, which I'm super jealous of.
> 
> The longer I write this story, the more painful I know the outcome will be, lol. There's a lot of problematic stuff happening in this story, tbh, but I also kind of love that cuz I'm a slut for drama. I just hope I'm writing it well.
> 
> Enjoy! Apologies for any mistakes, I edit my own work ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

It has quickly become a regular and cherished tradition for you and Gabe to hide out in his bathroom once the parties became a weekly event. He even joins you by the pool more now during the weekdays, which is always a pleasure. It’s kind of ridiculous how fit he is, and it suits him well. He always keeps some distance from you, but you’ve more than encouraged his more intimate touches now that he’s seemed to have gotten braver.

His hands brush your waist more, or your arms, when he passes by you. Occasionally he’ll swim with you instead of sitting in his pristine lounge chairs and chat with you or do work silently. He even once tucked some hair out of your face when you were lying on his couch during a weekend block party, a little too boozed up and feeling dizzy. He’d come to check on you, and the gentle brush of the back of his fingers against your cheek as he leaned over you had you smiling and leaning into the touch. Gabe had smiled back, but took his hand away, leaving you alone to sober up with a cup of water instead of your whiskey glass.

Currently, now five weeks of parties in, you sit low in Gabe’s bathtub nursing a whiskey-based drink he had brought to you, and saying, “This is ridiculous.”

Gabe sits where you had sat the first time being in here; leaning against his mirror on the countertop, though his legs are long enough to touch the floor. He grins at you, leaning his head back. “I’m pretty tired of it, too.”

Since that day in the pool, there's been a shift in attitude towards you from Gabe, and you're curious about it. You're unwilling to bring it up in the event it brings attention to what you're starting to think is a mutual attraction, and while he may have become more forward and comfortable with it, that doesn’t mean acknowledging it outright won’t scare him away. It feels like you’re balanced upon a tightrope, but it’s one you desperately want to get to the other side of, so you’re willing to take the baby steps to get there.

Though some part of you just wants to take the leap and see where it takes you both.

You empty your drink quickly when an idea strikes you. Gabe's brows have risen at you for it, but you lick your lips and ask, “Wanna ditch?”

That has him laughing, and its loudness and mirth makes you grin as the whiskey sets into your stomach.

“This ain't high school, sweetheart,” he teases, rolling his eyes.

You ignore the thrill of his pet name to point at him. “Hey. I'll have you know I was a master of getting out of class back then. Though it was, like, ten years ago. I was also just a little shit.”

Gabriel looks intrigued, crossing his arms on his chest. They flex, and the sleeves of his dark polo shirt stretch around his biceps, and you have to stop yourself from drooling.

“ _Really._ ” His voice drips with sarcasm. You wiggle your brows at him, and his incredulous facade briefly cracks with an amused grin. “Tell me about that.”

You rise from your place in the tub, hands on your hips. “No can do. This place isn't safe enough to share trade secrets like that.”

Gabe snorts, brow furrowing. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say solemnly. You start clamoring out of the tub, really starting to feel that whiskey now that you’ve stood up. “If you want any tips, tricks and bite from _this_ old dog, you're gonna have to ditch with me.”

There’s a beat of silence between you, in which you trip the rest of the way out of the tub and pretend like you hadn’t, bashing your shin against the sharp marble edge.

Gabe sighs and stands to follow you.

 

\--

 

“The key,” you had told him in his crowded and loud living room, obviously a little intoxicated and standing a little too close. “Is to just do it with so much confidence that no one would even question why you’re doing it in the first place.”

And then you just _leave_. It took Gabe a second to follow, and by then you’re somehow already a little ways down the street and he has to speed up to fall in beside you. People crossing between the houses don’t even look your way; no one calls out. Angela and Phareeha stand on Jack’s lawn, and with one glance back Gabe can see the man stepping out of his own home to join them.

No one calls out to either of you.

Gabe wonders if he should feel guilty about having more fun with a tipsy 26 year old than with lifelong friends, some of whom he’d been through hell and back with, and a number of who have been trying to contact him for years now. He knows why, and he knows it’s not okay, but he’s finding it hard to care.

The fifteen minute walk to the small village square is filled with your giggles and him keeping a respectful hold on your waist so you don’t accidentally sway off the sidewalk and into the empty street, taking his hand away as soon as you aren’t in danger of getting hit by a car, and ignores the fact that for the entire walk there hadn’t been a single care pass by.

He now sits with you inside a gelato shop. The clerk at the register is a teenager who mumbles a greeting and doesn’t look up from her phone. The inside is decorated stark white with pastel colorings all over the place and it's freezing. You're shivering not long after entering, and Gabriel shoves his hands in his pockets to keep from wrapping you up in a hug. He's been doing his best to keep from experiencing repeats of all the touches that have occurred since that hand hold from a few weeks ago, but it’s a difficult desire to reel in when you seem to want it from him so badly.

He’s not blind to the way you smile and scoot closer the few times he’s mindlessly gotten too close in the pool or during these block parties. Pretending like he doesn’t notice your hand resting upon his bicep, or how close you get leaning over his shoulder while he sits to whisper in his ear when it would have been perfectly acceptable to speak to him like a regular fucking person. Pretending is just the easiest way for him to enjoy the closeness both of you are seeking from each other. But that’s just it, its pretending. Your proximity burns him, or maybe he’s burning himself; withdrawing himself to such a degree that it’s painful. He’s just so hung up on the fact it’s _not okay and never will be--_

“This flavor is pretty good,” you say, hand resting on his forearm, gently tugging him down the self-serve line. You take two tiny taste test cups and pass him one when its filled. You toss yours back like it's a shot.

“Oh my God,” Gabe mumbles, using common decency and one of the small wooden spoons to try his. You just laugh, moving away for another flavor and covering your mouth with your hand. Gabe agrees that it's nice, but was already set on not buying anything.

You cover your gelato in sprinkles like a heathen and pay for it before motioning him back out into the warm summer air. You immediately sit way too close, your knee presses against his, but Gabe can't find it in himself to move away. He tries to sit as relaxed as possible with one arm stretched along the length of the bench and the other resting upon his thigh, and pretends that you aren’t almost tucked comfortably into his side like you could be.

“Wanna tell me about all those sneaky trade secrets of yours?” You snort at his question and he grins.

"I was actually a real asshole as a kid," you say casually, and Gabe can't help but laugh. You give him a slightly tipsy grin. "Surprised?"

"No." You may pretend to be sweet and innocent, but Gabe knows all too well that you aren't. “That story you told me about breaking into that house to party with your friends in college kind of gave it away.”

His quickness to respond amuses you, and you laugh and cover your mouth, taking a second to calm down before continuing. "Well. School in general was a good place for me to get away from home, but I didn't really have any good places to go and relax outside of that until I left for college. I’d sneak out of class a lot; truancy was a big problem for me and my mom. She didn’t actually care if I went or not, but because it affected her, she had to have explosive fights over it.”

Gabe sympathizes with you, and when you give him a sweet though sad smile, his heart aches. You shrug and sigh. “Anyway, I got injured in some minor car accident that needed some physical therapy to resolve, and I was allowed to leave early everyday and the school just...never looked into whether I was done with therapy or not?”

Another laugh escapes him before he can help it, and the grin you’re wearing is way too proud for your story. When he recovers, Gabe says, “That’s definitely less a trade secret and more sloppy administrative work.”

You pretend to be affronted, giving him a side-eyed glare that has him smirking. “Excuse you? I played it off so cool that they never bothered to _wonder_ if I should be in physical therapy for a whole year. I absolutely think I deserve all the credit, thank you very much.” You shove another spoonful of gelato in your mouth, and do a poor job covering up your smile.

“Alright, alright.” He appeases you in a playful tone. “I’ll give it to you for playing off of their oversight. That _is_ pretty smooth.” After a pause, where Gabe watches you preen cutely into your gelato, he asks, “So your mom just let you leave school like that?”

He can tell he asked the wrong question almost immediately. Your smile is gone, and your gaze looks anywhere but him.

You let out a hummed laugh that doesn’t sound very amused. “I guess...when I said _get away from home_ earlier, I meant it more as _getting away from my mom_. And my grandpa, I suppose. My whole family is a bunch of fuckin’ characters.” Sarcasm drips from your tone, and you give him a wry look from the corner of your eye, a dry smile on your lips.

Gabe doesn’t think it would be a good idea to ask direct questions immediately, so he awkwardly veers around it. “Where are you from originally?”

“Midwest America. A military training base is actually in our town,” you say with a grin. “Which makes sense, if you know what I mean.” You cast him a suggestive look that has him chuckling. “It was boring. The town really only thrives off the federal investment it gets for the base. It would be dead if not for that. My mom’s parents were both military and were stationed there. Grandpa was a drill sergeant, and he brought it home every fucking day.” He can hear the exhaustion in your voice, and watches you close your eyes for a moment. “You can imagine what that was like.”

You just roll your eyes, but Gabe is a little appalled at the idea of treating your family like new recruits. He remembers those dreadful days clearly, and understood the strange psychology behind it, but it certainly should never be applied to home life. “I only had to deal with it in high school, when we had to move in with them. But mom grew up with it, and it definitely didn’t help her conflict resolution skills.”

“Christ, that sounds like shit.” It’s out of his mouth before he can stop himself, but you laugh, leaning your head against his shoulder.

“It was,” you whisper, scraping out the bottom of your gelato cup. “I’m just glad I got away. I really don’t think I deserved to get into a school across the country--or even out of the country like right now--and I’m in debt out of my ass for it, but I’d rather be that than...what my mom is, I guess. She never left, y’know? She never got away, and neither did Grandma. They both just internalized it all. Grandma was quiet but mean, and mom is a straight up bitch.” You look a little ashamed to say those things, but also an expression of a deep sadness that you only seem to be able to let the town down the hill see.

He nearly gives in to the urge to hug you close, but instead relaxes with his arms spread across the back and simply allows you the moment of physical comfort of his shoulder. Gabe leans his head back with a heavy sigh, looking up at the sky, a cobalt blue now that the sun has entirely disappeared beyond the horizon.

Gabe considers his own family life for a moment. His mother, while not necessarily always present, had been a good mom. A nurse all her life, she put herself through school and raised Gabe on her own with the help from his maternal great-grandmother. Though abuela had been old, certainly too old to care for a young and rambunctious boy like Gabe, she was a cherished companion for him when mamá had to work long hours. It brings a slight smile to his lips. It had been hard for everyone, but they had all made it through better for it. Or at least he hopes so.

“I’m sorry.” He says it softly, eyes still focused on the wide expanse of the sky slowly lighting up with stars, and holds his breath tightly when he feels you pat his thigh gently in acknowledgement.

“It’s okay,” you whisper back.

You sniff and sit up, turning your head away from Gabe. With a quick glance, he can see you blotting deftly at your eyes. He almost acts like he didn’t see it, but is compelled to brush his hand along the back of your shoulders as he reclaims his arm, his hand spanning the width of your neck easily to squeeze comfortingly for a moment. Your head lifts, and you grace him with a lovely grin.

He quickly folds his hands into his lap, fingers winding tightly together, because in the waning light of the sun and the icy LED glow from the sign above, you’re gorgeous.

“Excited for Fourth of July?” He asks, leaning back in his seat and ignoring the way he wants to cringe from changing the subject so fast.

You hum, watching cars drive by. “I'm really only excited for these damn parties to be done. Jack said the 4th will be the last one for a while. Probably until Thanksgiving or New Years.”

“Thank god,” Gabe mutters, and you grin at him.

“It’s kind of funny to celebrate American holidays in Switzerland,” you muse, and Gabe shrugs.

“Most of the people in this neighborhood are expats,” he tells you. “It’s not so odd.” Gabe’s voice turns sour. “What’s odd is how obsessed Jack is with these block parties.” There’s a little more venom in his tone than he means, but it makes you laugh anyway, melting it away to a soft smile on the older man’s face.

“Why are you going along with it if you hate them just as much as me?” You dip a large scoop of gelato out and have to lean over your cup when it drips off your spoon. “I can’t do anything about it, but _you_ don’t have to offer up your own home every time.”

Gabe rolls his head back and forth on the glass window of the shop behind him. This small village shopping center near your neighborhood had a few people out and about on the weekend. The sky was darkening fast, but the block party was probably still going on strong.

He can see you glancing at him from the corner of his eye. He lowers his eyes to the brickwork below his feet. “Jack’s got a way of railroading people into doing what he wants."

You give a single, short laugh that’s not terribly humorous. “Yeah...That’s definitely started becoming apparent to me.”

Gabe eyes your profile. The longer he spends time with you alone, the more he sees the strangeness of the relationship between you and his friend. The knowledge of your relation to Jack doesn’t change the lack of familial history that actually creates the bond. It’s truly an awkward situation to be in, and a disappointing one, Gabe is sure.

You glance over at him again. “What are you thinking about?”

Gabe doesn’t know if it’s prying to ask, but it’s been on his mind for a while now. He watches you take another bite, scratching his fingers through his beard nervously.

“ _What_ ,” you sing, swaying into his side. Your motion only nudges him slightly, and you shoot him a flirty look before leaning away.

He sighs. “Why are you living with Jack?” You pause, eyes jumping back up to his face. You blink, glancing out quickly towards the parking lot. “You and Jack aren’t very close. You’ve already told me you don’t consider him your dad, but you’re living in his house and spending time with him like he is.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Your eyes meet, and Gabe waits patiently. Your spoon scrapes the bottom of the cardboard cup in your hand, but there’s barely anything left inside. “I went through a lot of effort to get Jack to acknowledge me at all. And it’s not like I don’t want…a dad. I just...”

You trail off, grimacing and tilting your head thoughtfully. “I don’t know what I want from Jack, if I'm being honest. It’s clear that a normal familial relationship might be impossible, but that doesn’t mean we can’t be close. Like...friends, or something.” You shrug, taking the last bite of your gelato and licking your lips. You look back at Gabe with a heavy sigh. “On a less serious note, he offered, and why would I give up the chance to live in fucking Switzerland? To get my masters in Switzerland? I only have to pay a little rent and that’s way better than any deal in the city, all while I’m in _fucking Switzerland_.”

“Is it that exciting?”

Gabe’s disgruntled voice seems to amuse you, and you gesture towards the small suburban village you both occupy. It’s built down a hill, and as the sky dies out, the snow capped mountains glitter far in the distance, rolling hills made apparent by the lights of homes and stores igniting. He can just make out the glow of the city miles away.

“Look at that!” You insist, grinning down at the view with obvious excitement. “Isn’t it gorgeous? Until now, I’d never left America, so of course I jumped at the opportunity. I’m so lucky to be here at all.”

Gabe wonders if he’s taking his time here for granted, staring out at the scenery before him. It truly is picturesque, and though he’s seen this view a thousand times in the years he’s been stationed here, it feels like he’s appreciating it for the first time in a long time under the influence of your own awe.

Gabe smiles softly, and you grin back. Setting your empty food container aside, you stretch your arms up and out, resting them along the back of the bench you share with him, like he had done before. Gabriel’s eyebrows rise at you, and your grin turns a little more sleazy. Gabe can’t help but laugh and glance down at your lips.

You jerk your head towards the parking lot. “Wanna get outta here, hot stuff?”

He only rolls his eyes and rises, giving you a hand to stand as well. He holds yours for longer than he should as you toss your things into the garbage, and when you look up at him, you smile and squeeze your fingers between his for only a moment. A moment long enough to make this feel more like a date than two friends escaping a party they both hate.

Fuck, is he even allowed to call you his friend?

With a light tug in the direction the two of you had walked from, Gabe lets your hand slip from his because that was the right thing to do. Even if his heart was pounding from the feelings coursing through his veins, and his gut screamed at him to touch you again.

You’re so young, and so conflicted about Jack and where you stand, and Gabe honestly is, too. Gabe isn’t sure if that’s a reason to be distant from you, but he doesn’t think he’ll ever get over you being related to Jack, even if it doesn’t seem as important to you.

Wistfully, Gabe thinks about how it would be so easy to fall into you, to let you move in close like you so obviously want to, like he already lets you. _You_ make it easy, and Gabriel knows that’s a rare thing to find between people.

But you’re so _young._

“Oh shit.” Gabe blinks out of his thoughts, looking down at you. You’re patting your pockets, and you suddenly twirl back towards the shop. “I think I left my wallet behind!” You speed walk back inside, and Gabe watches you go, standing in clear view of the window. You lean against the counter, and the teenager looks up at you.

Gabe swallows. Watching you interact with the girl at the counter suddenly makes your age a little more complicated. It’s clear you’re older than the teen working in the gelato shop. There’s a maturity and surety in the way you hold yourself, simply in the way you _look_ compared to someone younger than you and part of an age group that Gabe is unconsciously assigning you to. Where Gabe had thought you’d looked a little baby-faced before, standing across from the teenager you look anything but.

He averts his gaze, reminding himself that none of that actually matters. He shouldn't be feeling like this at all.

You’re checking your wallet’s contents as you walk back out towards him. “Sorry about that,” you laugh, shoving the leather into your back pocket. “Ready to go back?”

Gabe nods, and is silent the whole walk home. You don’t try to fill it, strolling along beside him and taking in the houses and gardens that you pass. You don’t sway or giggle like you had done walking to town, clearly sobered up enough to walk on your own now with your hands laced together behind your back.

Gabe’s heart hammers in his chest the whole way home as his resolve continues to crumble.


End file.
